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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23736178">best served cold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WisdomPearl/pseuds/WisdomPearl'>WisdomPearl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassination Classroom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Brainwashing Mention, Diary/Journal, Gen, Gift, Suicide mention, angsty shit, canon-ish but like, desensitivity i guess, i put gakushuu in it because screw it, ikeda's journal, non-romantic for once in my life, please don't read if you can't handle it, tags are hard to think of bruh, trigger warning</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:40:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,074</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23736178</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/WisdomPearl/pseuds/WisdomPearl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ikeda writes a journal about himself and Gakuho reads it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaramelleCat/gifts">CaramelleCat</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>if this doesn't line up with the canon storyline im sorry-</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>{Rikuto Ikeda}</p><p>
  <strong>Diary Entry #1:</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>I thought I might try venting out somewhere. Someone suggested it to me, saying that it’ll help me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>You know, I always used to read about these sorts of things in stories and books, sometimes I’ll see it in a movie, but experiencing it was a whole different basketball court.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I didn’t think it’d be this gradual. The movies and book portrayed it as a crippling sensation, but in reality, it feels stranger than that. In some ways, you could say it feels worse.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I can’t even tell you when it started. Was it when those jerks started picking on me? Or maybe was it after graduating? Or was it when I started doubting myself more and more, starting every morning without a smile? Did knowing where it all began even matter?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I haven’t seen a professional yet. I don’t know exactly when I’ll have the courage to sign up for any therapy lessons.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I want to scream. I want to vent my frustration and pain somewhere where I can’t hurt anyone. But, of course, I can never bring myself to go anywhere alone. It feels haunting, almost spooky, to go somewhere where no one can help me. So I guess I’ll vent inside myself and release some tension into this notebook. After all, I doubt anyone will read this. It’s just me and you, notebook. Don’t betray me like my friends did.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rikuto Ikeda</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Diary Entry #2:</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Humans have always been interesting creatures. We feel so many emotions, and yet, we categorize them into vague categories such as happiness, sadness, anger, disgust, and contentment. Sometimes we’ll break off from those categories and move into subcategories, but when you see someone crying, you immediately think sadness. When someone’s about to get married, you’ll think they’re happy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But what if that person was crying out of happiness? What if that person was forced into this marriage from blackmail? See, humans jump to conclusions so quickly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Emotions are humanity’s defining point. It shows your personality and nature. It shows the vulnerable parts of you and shows you.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I wonder if my emotion is the same for others. Am I blind to other people’s emotions?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>This feels like a monster clawing at me. Invisible shackles chain me down and I can’t move as it attacks. That’s what happens in my dreams sometimes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ve noticed that my waist has grown slimmer. Am I eating less? Maybe it’s because I’ve been running more. I have to be fit to do basketball after all.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m always so tired. I’m exhausted after school and I’m exhausted in the morning. At school, I don’t usually initiate conversations. People walk up to me and talk to me. They’re never good things though. Are they? I haven’t been very active online lately. I’ve never had the energy to do so.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Confiding in this diary gives me a sense of relief, but it also scares me. What if my parents see this? What if my teachers see this? What if my classmates see this? I’ll never be able to go to school the same way again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ikeda Rikuto</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Diary Entry #3:</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Lately, there’s been people trying to befriend me. I wonder why? I’ve tried to act more enthusiastic about life, but inside, I feel…sad?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I have friends already! These two guys have been around me a lot lately. They’ve hung around me since the beginning. I hope they understand how I feel.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Though, I wonder why they do things I’ve been told not to do my whole life. They playfully push people against lockers and walls. In the beginning, I asked them why they did that. They said that they were just playing. Gradually, I came to ignore it. It’s friendly, right? The sort of friendly that causes petty fights over trivial matters.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sometimes I’ll see the person that they’re friends with. I’ll ask them how their day is. They usually reply with something along the lines of, “Pretty terribly. Can’t believe you hang around them.” I tell them that they’re my friends. Some of them ignore me and walk away. The others scoff and tell me, “You’ll learn one day.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I kind of hope that I don’t learn.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ikeda</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Diary Entry #4:</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Hi! It’s been a while since I’ve written in this. Two weeks, is it?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ve been dealing with things. My friends started treating me pretty shittily. They tell me that it’s just playful banter. I was told that my feelings matter too. But maybe, if it makes them happy, I can be happy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sometimes, I’ll zone out and “leave” my body. The internet calls it “dissociating”. It’s weird. It’s so new that I can’t tell if it’s good or bad.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I find myself staring at the kitchen knife occasionally. Maybe my stomach is hungry or something. But even though there’s food in front of me, I can’t bring myself to eat. Gradually, I’ve been eating less and less to the point where I started skipping meals. Not too many meals though, I still have breakfast and dinner. Lunch is a pain sometimes.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I just want to be happy. My teacher told me to be happy. He told me that I deserve happiness. I wonder when I’ll get happiness.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I started having ideas on how to obtain my happiness, but none of them seem good. I don’t want to do any of my ideas. It’s painful to write it down and I hope that the erase marks cover them up.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rikuto</em>
</p><p>
  <strong>Diary Entry #5:</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Ah, it’s been a long time again. I’ve been tired lately.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I made a life-changing decision. Would people be sad? Happy? I know a couple of people that would be happy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My thoughts are sort of muddled. I’ve been getting lower grades in school because I just can’t focus hard enough to care. What’s the point? I can’t see myself using anything I learn here in the future.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I need sleep now.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rikuto Ikeda</em>
</p><p>{Real-Life}</p><p>Ikeda closed his notebook, staring at the wall where some of his classmates chatted.</p><p>He ambled outside towards his home, warming up his mouth by doing random motions. His throat felt dry and his palms sweated. Of course, his body had become increasingly aware and anxious of what he was about to do.</p><p>He fumbled around in his bag for his phone, not bothering to look with his eyes. His fingers trembled as he punched in a familiar number. The inflictions on his cheekbones were prominent and started to throb, but he resisted it.</p><p>The infamous ringing tone sounded, but was quickly cut off, “Hey there, Ikeda! How’ve you been?”</p><p>Ikeda mustered up a happy facade, “Sure has been a while, Mr. Asano. You sound better than ever.”</p><p>“More or less, I suppose. So, what’s up?”</p><p>Ikeda smiled, scratching his face, “Oh, nothing much. Just wanted to see how you were doing.”</p><p>The other seemed to chuckle happily, “Well, I’m as lively as ever. How about you? Causing any trouble?”</p><p>Ikeda’s old habits of being cheerful had surfaced, “Haha! Nah, I’ve turned over a new leaf, just like you taught me!”</p><p>He quickly died down his volume, “You sound busy, so I’ll call you later. Make sure you treat me to something good with all that money from your investments!”</p><p>
  <strong>Diary Entry #6:</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Only six entries here? I haven’t been too loyal to building this diary up, have I? Shame on me.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ve decided that this could possibly be my last entry. I haven’t really done much writing in this. To be fair though, I haven’t made much effort in writing my thoughts much here. It’s a waste of time, just as I had thought. Someone recommended this to me, saying that it’ll help to vent. So, since I guess someone will read this, I’ll spill it out.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ll admit that I’ve been feeling a little down lately. Well, I’m not sure about “a little”. It’s honestly sort of frightening to think about this from a different person’s perspective.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>My “friends” are not really supportive. They’ve been targeting me a lot. I’ve been the source of their venting, usually in the form of words and occasional shoves that get too violent. I’ll tell my family that I’ve just tripped. They must think that I’m so clumsy, considering that I’ve come back with visible wounds many times.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I don’t find it beneficial for me to try and tell someone. There’s no point. I can’t do anything to help myself. I just have to suck it up and deal with it, right? I’ll figure out a way to escape eventually. Eventually. I will, I’ve promised myself that I would.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’ve noticed that I’ve eaten less. Ah yes, the memories of my so-called-friends teasing my weight. They have slimmer waists and better frames, and I’ve accumulated a noticeable amount of weight. To the people reading this, I’m guessing that I’m now considered strange, right? “Why would you do something like that to yourself?” I’ve heard it all too many times before.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I haven’t been in too much of a good mood since I graduated cram school. I can’t remember the last time I smiled genuinely. Has it been a year? Half a year? It’s all so blurry.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The days of the week don’t matter anymore. I’ll wake up when my alarm tells me to. I’ll go to school when I’ve woken up early. I’ll stay in bed if the sun is outside and glaring at me. I don’t want to get up. I don’t want to face anyone.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Last year, I called Mr. Asano after getting beaten up by my “friends”. He seemed so happy. He’s gotten more popular since his teachings have revolved around town. I’m glad for him.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And, as the grand finale, I figured that if I were to die, I would want to die my way, right?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m planning on going to the bridge tonight. I have already convinced my family to let me out tonight. They told me to be back soon. I’m sorry, mom and dad. I’ll have to break a promise.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ah, I’ll go now before my family gets suspicious.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It hurts to do this and I’m having second thoughts, but I want everyone reading this to not be too sad. It wasn’t your fault. It’s mine.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I’m sorry.</em>
</p><p>{Real-Life}</p><p>“Mom, I’m going out now.”</p><p>“Alrighty, please be safe out there.”</p><p>Ikeda considered calling Mr. Asano again, but stopped, whispering to himself, “He’s busy. I probably shouldn’t bother him right now.”</p><p>Staring into the dark waters, he smiled a smile that held a lot of pain, his tears falling to mix with the water below before meeting Poseidon below.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. part two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>yes i shoved gakushuu in here don't @ me</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>{Gakuho Asano}</p><p>Gakuho was practically speechless.</p><p>Only seconds ago, he was happily spinning a basketball on the tip of his finger. But as soon as he saw the funeral procession, his mood dropped faster than the basketball.</p><p>He overheard from one of the relatives that it was a suicide.</p><p>“Apparently he was being bullied by a senior in his club. He was getting beaten up, and his money kept getting stolen.”</p><p>“Ever since middle school, he’s had a reputation for being kind, even in the neighborhood.”</p><p>“But still…” This was probably the sentence that broke Gakuho mentally, “He should’ve resisted, at least a little.”</p><p>He gripped his knee tightly as he sat in the kneeling position. He saw that the other two students that Gakuho had taught were weeping close by.</p><p>And suddenly, as if lightning struck him, he realized something. If he couldn’t raise strong students, then nothing even matters.</p><p>Gakuho had always believed in growing the students into good people. But, this was too much of an outlier. How could Ikeda, a perfectly happy boy, die just three years later?! Gakuho couldn’t accept this. He couldn’t afford to lose any more of his beloved students. So he decided to do the one thing that he knew would work: familiarize himself with strength. It was such a new term and the cram school teacher needed to learn all kinds of strength, and fast.</p><p>But before he left the house, Ikeda’s mother had caught his attention by calling his name, “You’re Mr. Asano! I just want to give you this before you leave.”</p><p>Gakuho looked at the flimsy, pale green notebook, “What is it?”</p><p>“Ikeda’s diary. The last entry is dated right before his body was found.”</p><p>Gakuho’s breath hitched. His throat felt cramped and his palms sweated profusely. Nevertheless, he took the notebook in his hands, looking at the cover. It held a sticky note that was slapped onto the cover in a crooked manner. The writing was very clearly Ikeda’s, as indicated by the hastiness of his strokes.</p><p>“To my family:</p><p>Please read this and give it to Mr. Gakuho Asano, my old cram school teacher. I’m sure he’d be confused.”</p><p>Back at home, in the midst of martial arts books he checked out from a library, he stared at the notebook.</p><p>Looking at the condition of the pages on the side, he noticed that Ikeda hadn’t written much in the book. The used pages were noticeably creased and used while the unused pages stuck to each other in a neat and clean manner.</p><p>Almost painfully, Gakuho opened to the first page and started reading.</p><p>And even though there were only six entries in the diary, with the middle few being quite short, the last entry had seemed to slap Gakuho where it hurt.</p><p>Gakuho, however, didn’t cry. But his heart did hurt, not just because of the sincerity and emotions that Ikeda felt, but also because of the fact that he couldn’t even force a tear out for him.</p><p>The part that pained him was the part where Ikeda talked about him. He knew that Ikeda meant no negative impact on him (after all, he did address the book’s ownership to him), but the way that Gakuho had viewed himself in the entry was quite hurtful.</p><p>He felt responsible. He should’ve noticed the shakiness of Ikeda’ voice when he had the phone call with him. He shouldn’t have brushed it off as bad reception. He should’ve noticed that Ikeda seemed to be on the verge of tears. He should’ve visited earlier. He should’ve at least gotten the chance to see Ikeda one last time before he left the world. He should’ve been there to support his beloved student. Even if he had graduated from his school, he should’ve treated him like a son.</p><p>He gripped his fist tighter, leaving little red crescents on his palm. He made a solemn promise to himself and to every student and child that would go and learn under him.</p><p>He will make them strong.</p><p>Years passed. He had gotten a son. He had lost a wife. He had been beaten up by his karate teacher until he saw stars. He had inflicted the same onto his teacher. Were these events in order? Gakuho no longer knew. The days morphed into weeks, and months, and years. He lost his sense of time. But it didn’t matter. He only saw the changes in the sky, changes in the weather, and changes in the clothing that walked around.</p><p>When his son had smiled for the first time at age one, he felt a pang shoot through his chest. It was identical to Ikeda’s.</p><p>The look of fright and shock was enough for the one-year to cry. Although the child had still smiled for a bit after that moment, it wasn’t long before the smile was history.</p><p>More years passed. Gakushuu was going to primary school. Seeing his only child being teased by other kids, Gakuho made it routine to strengthen his son. Only half a month later, the teasing stopped. Gakushuu was more confident. Gakuho was content.</p><p>But the expectation only grew. His son had beared the brunt from his father’s expectations, fulfilling them with everything he had and more.</p><p>Gakuho had located Ikeda’s bullies and began to break them mentally. He started out by pointing out to them some of the more riskier casinos and gambling spots. He then escalated the gravity by getting them even more hooked on betting away every yen they had on them. Not long after, even though Gakuho had given them a lot of money, they used every single bit of it on gambling, and losing. He enhanced his methods of brainwashing because of it.</p><p>More years passed. Class E became a threat and Gakushuu was getting rebellious.</p><p>Gakushuu demanded answers. He wanted what the Class E students wanted: the reason why Gakuho had become like this.</p><p>Old feelings and memories surfaced, but his facade pushed them down. He smiled despite the pain that had started emerging.</p><p>He didn’t want to become weak. So even though the memory of Ikeda was threatening to break through, he could barely manage to get by.</p><p>A year passed. And now we’re here.</p><p>Gakushuu lied on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the pages of a calculus textbook, “Father.”</p><p>Gakuho looked up with tired eyes, “Hm?”</p><p>“Go to sleep.”</p><p>Silence.</p><p>“Father. You haven’t slept in three days. Aren’t you afraid of going insane?”</p><p>“Since when have you cared? I remember just yesterday, we were arguing over a trivial matter.”</p><p>“You’re still hung over that? Come on dad, it was over the anatomy of a velociraptor. It’s not that important.”</p><p>It’s not that important.</p><p>Gakuho chuckled, “You called me dad for the first time in fifteen years.”</p><p>“And?” Gakushuu scoffed, “Aren’t we on, you know, more informal terms now?”</p><p>“I guess so, son.” Gakuho leaned back and closed his eyes, “Did I ever tell you that being an adult is hard.”</p><p>“You haven’t slept in three days because you got rejected by every company you sent a letter to because of your career history.” Gakushuu rolled his eyes, “Unless you’re talking about that long-awaited secret that E Class and I pined for.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Gakushuu paused, putting the textbook down next to him and sitting up, “What?”</p><p>“The secret. I’ll tell you.”</p><p>Gakushuu was suspicious. He had never seen his father like this, “What’s the catch?”</p><p>Gakuho thought about it for a while. Of course his son would ask something like that. But considering that he can get something from his son, well, he had the perfect idea.</p><p>He opened his eyes and smiled genuinely at his perplexed son, “Can you...smile again?”</p>
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